You Are the Only Exception
by fAteD lOvE
Summary: Sequel to "I'm Your Guy". Not really canon. Chuck and Sarah arrive back in the real world: of grumpy John Casey-ies and nosy Ellie Bartowski-ies in good ol' Burbank.


FL UPDATED. Quick, check the news, something's gonna happen; aliens, an apocalypse, Judgement day, New Zealand will merge with Australia! (…Yeah right, that's _not_ gonna happen. Ever.) This was gonna come out ages ago, but I wasn't sure I wanted to post after I slept on it, but here it is finally.

Oh and I'd like to add: I was blown away by the reception to "I'm Your Guy", honestly wasn't expecting as much love as I got from you guys. So this very long piece is a thank-you. Was it the completely innocent "where has everyone gone" sentence that guilted you into reviewing? ;)

Great to see the lurkers come out, and maybe this time we can prod the oh-so-snotty popular writers out from their hibernation to drop a quick line! :P (Thanks for the beta and kick in the behind, mxpw)

Disclaimer: SeasonFourSeasonFourSeasonFourSeasonFour!

* * *

**You Are the Only Exception**

**.**

_Paramore_**  
**

_When I was younger_  
_ I saw my daddy cry_  
_ And curse at the wind_  
_ He broke his own heart_  
_ And I watched_  
_ As he tried to reassemble it_

_ And my momma swore that_  
_ She would never let herself forget_  
_ And that was the day that I promised_  
_ I'd never sing of love_  
_ If it does not exist_

**.  
**

"This is it, Chuck. Are you ready?"

He watches her bite her lip as she glances at the exit, "The sojourn's over. Reality bites, doesn't it?"

His thumb rubs the back of her hand in his; he pulls her closer so she is right by his side. People push past them on their way to the arrivals gate, and they stand like a small island in the middle of a raging storm.

"Hey, look at me." Chuck smiles at her lopsidedly. "It'll be okay. We're in this together."

"That was really cheesy," Sarah remarks, but her mood brightens from the anxious look she had during the whole flight.

"Yeah," he agrees. "And I resisted saying this but…We'll always have Paris."

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Oh Chuck…" Sarah seems to have run out of responses to his moments of complete dorkiness, and just readjusts her handbag on her shoulder. "Let's go. Casey's going to be annoyed enough as it is that he came back to L.A. only to find out that we took a few extra days off in Paris."

"We deserved it," Chuck says firmly. "Who knows when the next time will be where we get to just be together?"

They walk towards the bottleneck of the door; Chuck cringes with the crush of bodies around him, but he thanks God for being tall and able to breathe as he is at least a head taller than most of the travelers. He and Sarah stand out like sore thumbs with their height and his suit and her professional blouse and skirt ensemble. They had to endure economy seats, due to their unapproved holiday—with no perks from the government.

"Well, we can always just run away if it gets too much," Sarah half-teases, and Chuck thinks the scary thing is, is that she looks partly serious about it. "We're getting pretty good at the whole planning thing; the execution could do with some work though."

Chuck nervously chuckles at that. He sees Casey standing in the midst of the waiting mob, his arms crossed over his broad chest and a dark look on his face. "How about we practice? Like… say now."

"Don't be ridiculous, Chuck." But he notices that she drops his hand casually on the way out and inches away from his side. "Casey's just a soft sugar bear, remember?"

Chuck fake-smiles, his eyes widening when Casey unnerves him by seemingly boring holes in him with his unblinking gaze.

Before he could greet Casey, the big man takes his hand in a crushing grip that looks like a manly handshake from the outside. "I can read lips, Bartowski."

Discarding his masculine pride, Chuck whimpers from the vice hold Casey has on his poor fingers, "We were just joking, Casey. Sarah and I know you're super stone-like." He punches Casey on the shoulder, but his fist bounces off the bulging muscles and Chuck grins sheepishly. "Wow, Casey, you're…" With every word, Casey looks more menacing, and Chuck finishes off with a desperate nodding of his head, "You've been working out…killer, you!"

The growling in Casey's throat grows to a thunderous roar in his chest, and Chuck wonders if he's imagining the vibrating that's transferring over their handshake, making his wrist bones all tingly.

Sarah links her arm through his elbow just in time, dragging Chuck a few steps away from the steaming Casey. "Casey."

Casey nods at her. "Walker."

Turning on his heel as if he were leading a military manoeuvre, Casey does an about-face, and stalks in front of them to his car.

Chuck and Sarah just look at each other and follow without another word.

Only when the heavy door shuts with a _clunk_, and Chuck is shoved unceremoniously into the backseat by Casey's hand in his face, does Casey speak.

"So," he says slowly, the one word measured and so weighty it makes Chuck squirm, "you decided to have a lover's rendezvous in Paris for a whole three days. Without telling me."

Chuck blinks. "Uh, buddy, you really need to break that fascination you have with needing to listen and watch my every move I make. I didn't think it was appropriate… that you wanted to join us."

Sarah snorts in a very unladylike way.

Casey growls, "Bartowski, Walker may like her chocolate peanut butter, but I am the only uncompromised, uncontested, unofficial leader of Team Bartowski. You should have told me."

Chuck is sure Casey mutters, "_I needed some R and R_" under his breath, but decides not to call him out on it.

"Beckman's going to have you both strung out on 18th century torture devices," Casey adds maliciously.

"That was worryingly specific," Chuck comments. "And very graphic."

Sarah interjects before Casey, "Beckman owed it to Chuck. She was completely fooled by Shaw… and so were me and you. Chuck was the only one who raised concerns, and we all ignored him."

"It was actually Morgan," Chuck added. "He spotted the fake fight Shaw had with the Ring guys."

Casey grunted approvingly. "Well I gotta say, the troll helped me get my job back, and in the end, you two finally did the tango. Clears up all the lady feelings; I can actually breathe around you two now."

"Casey, are you getting sentimental?"

"Shut up, Bartowski, before I slide the car into a pole, which will conveniently squash your side."

**.**

"That was extremely unprofessional and I should suspend the both of you," Beckman says icily, glaring at them over her steepled fingers. She sniffs and haughtily adds, "But I will pardon you because of Bartowski's actions. He saved a federal agent, and took out a rogue spy who had a very high clearance and access to the Intersect."

For a moment, she looks impressed. "I received your reports, and for your second assignment, it was very good, Agent Carmichael. Your official files are gleaming right now. It looks like you have no trouble with the killing aspect anymore; after the first time it gets easier, I presume."

Chuck gives her a strained smile at the lie he was hiding, and out of his peripheral vision, neither Casey nor Sarah were showing any uncomfortable signs. He tries to pull himself together.

Beckman looks long-sufferingly at him as she announces, "You are reinstated to agent status, with your cover name. Would you like to have your reassignment to Rome again?"

Sarah and Casey look at him inscrutably; Chuck looks at Casey first, before meeting Sarah's eyes.

It's an easy decision. "No," he says decidedly. "I'm not going anywhere unless these two are with me."

The general doesn't look surprised. "Very well." She shuffles a few stacks of paper. "I will decide what the best course of action is for Team Bartowski, and over the next few weeks you'll stay in Burbank doing whatever you've been doing."

"Yes, General." Taking advantage of her focus on the documents, Chuck tries to catch Sarah's eye, and he grins when he realises she's already looking at him. They trade secret smiles and Chuck can't help the goofy look that splits his face.

Casey sees their exchange and he grunts disgustedly.

"Ahem."

Chuck jumps in his chair guiltily and turns his attention to the general, who, with a sinking stomach, he realised he should've known was much more experienced at this spy thing than him.

With a severe look on her face, Beckman twists her lips into disapproval. "You're not as subtle as you think, Bartowski. After the 49B, I knew this was going to happen, so I made contingencies."

She turns her attention to Sarah. "I didn't expect it to take so long, so they're understandably outdated as the circumstances have changed significantly."

"Ma'am—" Sarah started bravely, "I—"

"I am aware," Beckman drowns out whatever Sarah was about to say, "that agent-to-agent fraternisation is accepted, but in this case, Bartowski is the Intersect, so the conditions are different."

Chuck takes a deep breath. "With all due respect, General, what Sarah and I have, it's not fra—"

"But until I have any certain cases where my decision needs to be reviewed again, I will allow this … _fling_ to happen. Mark my words, Bartowski, if this in any way disrupts either of your performances or professionalism on missions, you two will be split apart faster than Colonel Casey's boxers come off when Agent Hansen comes calling."

The connection cut off abruptly to Casey's disgruntled muttering, but Chuck stares at the screen with surprise and newfound respect. His pre-conceived perception of the stately woman is shattered as he gratefully realises her tactful manoeuvring past the significant nature and depth of his and Sarah's relationship.

**.**

_Maybe I know, somewhere_  
_ Deep in my soul_  
_ That love never lasts_  
_ And we've got to find other ways_  
_ To make it alone_  
_ Keep a straight face_

_ And I've always lived like this_  
_ Keeping a comfortable, distance_  
_ And up until now_  
_ I had sworn to myself that I'm_  
_ Content with loneliness_

_ Because none of it was ever worth the risk_

_**.**  
_

Since Sarah didn't have her Porsche, they all pile into Casey's car.

Neither of them dares to say a word when Casey drove in the direction of Sarah's hotel, although Chuck catches the "Sorry" look Sarah aims at him through the side mirror from her seat at the front.

His mind blissfully blank, he stares out at the L.A. nightscape as they whizz past downtown, not really registering anything that he saw.

Pulling up at her hotel, it is almost awkward when Sarah says goodnight to him after Casey, and she lingers for a moment before turning decisively away towards the hotel entrance.

The two men watch her silhouette disappear into the lobby. Casey drives out of the parking lot, and glances in the mirror at Chuck, he lets out a nasty laugh. "Sucker. She got you whipped, eh Bartowski?"

Chuck shrugs, glad Sarah isn't here to witness him defending himself, "Of course not," he says, even though he admits the opposite in his own mind.

"That wasn't a question," Casey says. "Sucker."

"Just because you have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, Casey," Chuck retorts in a moment of misplaced bravery, "it doesn't mean we all have."

Casey is quiet for a moment, confusing Chuck, who anticipated Casey possibly pulling over to beat him up.

"Why would I need emotion, Bartowski?" Casey says humourlessly. "Emotions get you killed."

"Hey, isn't that what—"

"Yeah. Larkin was right about that. Either you or Walker will get hurt someday because of your feelings. You can have everything for now, but this isn't a happily ever after, Chuck. Nor is it a long-term solution. Just think about that."

Chuck swallows his original response, turning contemplative as he thinks about Casey and his daughter and what Casey had said to him about choosing this world.

"Casey—" Chuck licks his lips and clears his throat, "If you could do it all again…"

Clearly, Casey is on his wavelength, as he doesn't ask Chuck to clarify his question.

Chuck waits when Casey doesn't reply.

Five minutes pass and he is sure Casey is going to ignore the question.

"I don't know."

It is as close to a confession as Chuck has ever gotten from Casey. As patriotic as Casey is, it is almost a sign of regret.

"You know, you could go see them."

"No."

"Casey—I know why you don't want to, and that's fine…but just give them a chance to choose for themselves if they want to forgive you or not. This is Ilsa all over again. And if I remember correctly, that turned out in your favour."

"Give it a rest, Bartowski."

"You know what I think?"

Casey grunts, "I think you're going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not."

"Spot on," Chuck admits, and bravely continues, "I think big, bad John Casey, who terrifies the daylights out of terrorists and insurgents, is afraid of what his ex-fiancé and daughter thinks of him. Of facing what he's ignored for two decades with no good explanation of why he didn't go back."

The tires squeal as Casey stomps on the brake, and Chuck's caught breathless when he gets strangled by the seatbelt.

Casey turns around with fire in his eyes, and grabs a fistful of Chuck's dress shirt, dragging him forward viciously against the belt cutting into his chest. The car they block behind them starts blaring their horn.

Rolling down the window next to Chuck with his eyes glued darkly to his asset's, Casey jams his hand through the space of the open glass and fires a warning shot into the air.

The noise abruptly turns into deathly silence.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again," Casey says coldly.

Chuck wonders whether he has a death wish, and prays to all the saints when his mouth opens again automatically, "Why?" He asks, "Is it because you know I'm right? And you wish I was wrong, because then you wouldn't feel guilty about knowing but not doing?"

He's struck a nerve, and with his eyes glimmering more than usual, Casey throws him back into the seat hard.

Neither of them says a word. Casey takes the wheel again and they zoom onto the freeway. He drives sedately back to Casa Bartowski, as if deep in thought.

Chuck scrambles out of the car with a brief "Goodnight" and leaves without waiting for a reply.

It's sobering when he opens the door to the dark apartment. It's like everything is the same, in little Burbank-world. Paris seems so far away that he is tempted to call Sarah just to make sure everything is real. What would happen between them now? Casey's words made him think.

"Morgan?"

Tripping a little over his gleaming shoes, he slides them off and throws them in the corner beside the door. Reaching into the small duffle bag he'd hastily packed for his and Casey's trip to France, he pulls his Chucks out and arranges them next to his loafers. His pair of tattered shoes seem sadder than usual beside the leather loafers he's been forced to wear more and more these days. "Sorry," Chuck says to his black Converses as if they were an old friend he'd paid less attention to. The floppy tongue of canvas looks affronted to him, and he looks away from its accusing stare.

"It's not my fault."

The lounge is dark, and he flips on the light. "Mooooorgan!"

His bearded friend is missing, most likely at Jeff and Lester's. Chuck decides he probably doesn't know his roommate is back yet.

After living with Sarah for three days, the apartment feels too unemotional and lonely for him, so he switches on the television for some background noise.

Walking into the kitchen, he surreptitiously glances at the place where he and Sarah had their heart to heart. A smile comes to his face when he remembers the relief on her face after she answers his question.

Sticking his tongue between his lips, Chuck swings open the fridge and groans. He should never have let Morgan handle the grocery shopping. Two of the five shelves were bursting with grape soda cans, and the other three were filled with an assortment of crisps, chocolate and dips.

He feels a ray of salvation when he spots a familiar looking bowl, pushed right to the back of the fridge. With both hands, he takes it out reverently, and checks that the roast chicken lasagna is still edible. It is. And it has an unmistakable _Chuck_ scribbled over the transparent wrap in big bold black letters, a line of _Morgan, touch and you die,_ underneath it. Looking upwards, he thanks the heavens for Ellie, for her cooking, and for her remembering her baby brother would perish without said cooking.

"Blaugh!" Fumbling, it's only by the tips of his fingers that he re-catches the bowl, when he is caught off guard by two hands wrapping around his chest from behind him.

Hugging the dinner to him, he turns around in the Morgan position.

"Hi," Sarah says with an uncertain grin.

Chuck is still breathing hard. "Sarah! What— What are you doing here?"

It is a weird feeling, that in Burbank, where most of their "will they, won't they" dance happened, that they'd finally be a couple. Sarah is more open than he's ever seen her, and looking at her radiance now, he promises to himself again that he is never going to betray her trust ever again. This is the real Sarah.

"Oh." For the first time, she looks unsure. "Um, if it's not a good time…"

"No!" Chuck says quickly wit h an apologetic smile. "No, it's fine. Please stay."

Sarah looks almost shy, and to break their eye contact, she takes the lasagna from his hands. "I just," she laughs self-deprecatingly, while Chuck leans on the bench, watching her putter around his kitchen, "wanted to see you."

She looks embarrassed.

"God, I feel like a teenager with a first crush again," Sarah admits quietly, and it warms Chuck from head to toe better than anything he's known. It's like he's in an alternate universe, Sarah's said more to him in purely a let's-spend-time-together capacity than she has in the three years they've known each other. He knows she prefers comfortable silences and listening to his babble than speaking herself. The few words she does say usually mean much more than what people say in entire sentences.

As the microwave whirs, she parks herself next to him, her hands on the edge of the bench. It should have felt uncomfortable, Chuck muses in his head, after the transition from handler to trainer to lover; it was like dating your teacher. It should have, but it didn't.

"What are you thinking about?" Sarah probes. "You're always thinking, Chuck."

When he simply shrugs with a 'that's-me' grin, she smiles in return and offers, "Sometimes it's just easier to be uncomplicated, to have a relationship without needing to define what it is. Instead, just knowing you like the other person, and you want to get to know them."

Chuck takes her hand that's resting between them, and marvels at the way they can touch without feeling self-conscious any more. "I'm just an insecure guy."

"We're both really screwed up, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"Mmhm."

Sarah speaks out loud again when he doesn't, "Chuck? I know we're together and everything, but…I'm an independent girl, and as much as I like you, I don't—I'm not comfortable with being all sappy. I still need to keep my kiss-ass-ninja mindset, okay? I'm still your handler and partner."

"Okay."

Sarah smiles at him, "I've had males dictating my life and who I am, I just need you to know that I can survive without you, but I _definitely_ prefer to have you in my life. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Sure."

"What's with you today? You've said less than me."

Chuck simply says, "I like to listen to your voice."

Sarah laughs, "Come here, goofball."

She pulls him from her side and lets him pin her to the table behind her, sliding her arms around his waist. With a smile, she tilts her head up towards him invitingly, and he doesn't waste a second, dipping his head to meet her open mouth.

Sarah murmurs her pleasure indistinguishably into the kiss, and he can't help pulling her closer, gathering her into his arms, and even when that still left too much space between them, he lifts her onto the bench, letting her tug him by the hair to her.

Warm and comfortable, Chuck slides his hands under her shirt, noticing the way she arches automatically into his body with his touch, unable to keep his hands off her smooth, toned back after being introduced to it three days ago.

Sarah turns her head skilfully and takes him into a steamier waters; he's not embarrassed at all by the way she's teaching him, guiding him. Chuck Bartowski can take the back seat, the thought floats in the back of his mind, and he can picture Scooter laughing at him.

_Woman on top, huh?_

Teasingly, she draws his lips into a long kiss before drawing away and coming back again. Chuck can feel the smile on her lips when she presses them against his.

"I'm not really hungry for food," Sarah whispers huskily.

"Not anymore," Chuck affirms.

There was a brief pause where she stares at him with an intense look. He stared back. Sarah breaks her serious expression with a laugh, and she pushes herself off the bench with her legs wrapped around him, so he's forced to nearly break his back while catching her and centering their weight.

With her nose buried in his neck like the time she had been forced to secure their cover when Scooter walked into the Weinerlicious freezer—a lifetime ago—Chuck staggers into the living room.

"You know, I'm a spy," Chuck gasps, "but I'm also a wimp. With nerd arms."

Tumbling less than gracefully onto the conveniently placed couch, Chuck coughs as Sarah's full weight lands on his chest completely unapologetically.

Chuck knows that Sarah has a seductive side, but she never flips the sultry switch. Instead, her shy smile is the-girl-next-door, her fingers are fumbling on his shirt instead of the deftness he knows she's capable of, and she is quieter and more reserved than he would have guessed when they are making love. Almost as if she isn't the practiced CIA-trained agent who beds men easier than Chuck fixes broken phones—as if this is Jenny Burton with her first boyfriend.

"Sarah," Chuck says while his own hands sweep up and down her jeans-clad leg, "We're in the living room."

He lifts his eyebrows. "Where there are windows."

She doesn't seem bothered, so he continues, "And Casey…and my sister." He shudders.

Finally pausing, Sarah props her chin on his chest, her fingers playing with the curls that rested on his forehead. "Well, the hard object currently poking my leg seems to disagree with you."

Chuck frowns, and with a mysterious smile, he reaches between them.

"That…that would be my Xbox controller," he deadpans, holding the plastic gaming device from his fingers innocently.

Sarah bursts into that large, lopsided Chuck-grin he couldn't resist, her adorable front teeth and dimples making him think that he's never seen such a pretty smile before.

"Oh. My. God!" Chuck hears as his front door flies open. "Chuck! You're back!"

Chuck drops the controller with a clatter onto the hardwood floor, and Sarah inches away subtly as they sit up, poker straight.

Ellie's eyes widen even more as she recognises Sarah. "Sarah!"

Devon's buff torso appears clearly behind Ellie, and taking in the scene, he gives Chuck a very obvious thumbs-up. _Good one, bro_, he mouths.

Sarah picks herself up from the couch like she's sitting on eggshells and stands awkwardly, clasping her hands together. "Hi, Ellie," she starts nervously, "it's been a while."

"And so it has," Ellie says, less enthusiastically, testing the waters. Walking into her former home as if she still owned it (which legally, she did), his sister points at the couch Chuck was currently rising from. "Sit."

Chuck plops back down obediently without a word and Sarah feels intimidated enough to also comply immediately, sitting gingerly on the other side of the couch.

Devon sidles up behind Ellie, and booms, "Awesome!", and attempts to fist-bump Chuck. His hand gets unremorsefully slapped down by Ellie.

Ellie perches herself in the opposite armchair. "So…where have you been, Sarah?"

Chuck decides to intervene, "Ellie—"

"Shut up, Chuck," Ellie snaps without looking at him. She raises her eyebrows questioningly at Sarah.

Sarah fidgets nervously, her eyes darting around as if planning an escape route, and Chuck thinks, _Poor Sarah, Ellie's got them covered. You'll never escape._

"I've been in Paris…with Chuck," Sarah says weakly.

Grimacing, Chuck looks at Ellie, _Please don't bring me into this…_

Ellie lets out a grumble. "Okay Chuck, let's start with you then. You can show Sarah how it's done."

"Charles Irving Bartowski," Ellie announces ominously like a Supreme Court Judge. "God knows what you've been up to this last year or two. You've been keeping secrets from me, you've been coming home at strange hours, but this is something you need to fix, now."

She reads out his transgressions with all the flair of a rock, "First you find this Lou girl, who was perfectly nice…and who you then proceeded to dump without even bringing her around to dinner once. Then, you get back with Jill! Which_ really_, it turned out how we all knew it would." Ellie fixes him with a sharp glare. "By then, I was thoroughly convinced you were over Sarah. And then comes Hannah! Hannah, Hannah, _Hannah_. The sweet, classy girl—you find surprisingly, I might add, from the bargain box of Buymoria—who I find in a towel one morning, coming out of my bathroom. Who you also drop like a hot potato."

Chuck grits his teeth and tries his hardest to look as far as he can with his eyeballs without turning his head, at Sarah, to gauge her expression to the "bathroom" comment.

"Now Chuck," Ellie's tone softens into a matronly voice, "I know you haven't had the best luck with girls in the five years after Jill left you, but it's not an excuse to start shopping around when conveniently as Sarah appears in your life, a horde of them also get interested in you."

"Um, Ellie," Chuck interjects, trying to save any tatters of pride he may have left.

"Which brings us to Sarah," Ellie continues, steamrolling straight over him, "who you have been dating on and off for the last three years."

Ellie clicks her tongue in a disapproving way. "I don't know, Chuck. Maybe you want to test out your options before settling with one, but let me tell you, little brother…this just won't do. Because we could all see, from the moment you brought her home, that she's just _perfect _for you."

Chuck looks over at Sarah with a tender smile, and she looks at him before looking down coyly.

"Don't you smile, Sarah Walker," Ellie reprimands; the smile drops from Sarah's face as quickly as she schools her expression before Beckman. "You're not guiltless either."

"I've seen the arm candy you've been hauling around your yogurt shop," Ellie says gravely. "Maybe that's from the daddy issues you briefly brought up accidentally that time, or maybe you've been rebounding from Chuck, but that's no excuse."

Ellie takes a deep cleansing breath, "I haven't been involved with you two much at all, because I thought Chuck could handle it—which he obviously couldn't, so this is an intervention because you've both been acting like children who need my supervision. What have you got to say for yourself, Sarah?"

Sarah opens her mouth, but Ellie holds up a hand. "On second thought, I don't want to know. Because I'm going to tell you."

She looks earnestly from one to the other, and Chuck mumbles _traitor _in his head when Devon steps up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders and nods his agreement. Ellie shakes him off, "Don't get me started on your behaviour, mister." Devon's hands come off quickly.

"Sarah, Chuck—I don't know what's so complicated." She points at Chuck. "I can tell you're miserable without Sarah, the cheese ball-and-beard situation after you came back from Prague told us that clearly. Chuck, this woman can suffer through your immense geekiness. For God's sake, she even _laughs_ at your Star Wars jokes!"

Chuck saw Sarah hiding a curious grin, and an amused chuckle at the cheese ball comment.

"And Sarah," Ellie says, shaking her head with a large smile. "Every time you look at Chuck, and he looks back, your eyes just light up. We could see that ages ago."

Sarah finally takes her cue, "We sorted it out, Ellie. In Paris…we're finally on the same page."

Ellie deliberates, and looks Sarah in the eye, her expression inscrutable. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. So let's get down to business. Charles…"

Chuck straightens, almost feeling like a salute was necessary. "Yes, Ellie?"

"Do you promise to finally settle down and work on your relationship with Sarah? No funny business."

"I do," he says seriously.

"Sarah, do you promise to look after my baby brother and to accept that his 'life partner' is…_Morgan_?" Ellie swallows a few times to cleanse the contamination from her mouth that the word brings just by speaking it.

Sarah looks unnerved, "I do." She looks at Chuck, "I'll protect him until death do me part."

"I don't think you need to go _that_ far," Ellie says, but the rest of them, Devon included, look at each other meaningfully. "But with the sisterhood power invested in me, I give my approval for you, Sarah Walker, to date my brother again."

She finally breaks into a bright smile, and squishes Chuck and Sarah in a group hug. "You two kids are just too cute."

"Thanks Ellie, it means a lot to me," Sarah says when they pull apart.

Ellie gives her an indulgent smile, and takes her hand to make her stand up, "And now, you get to tell me what you guys were up to in Paris!"

The older woman herds Sarah into the kitchen to get the take-out menus.

Devon finally approaches Chuck. "You finally got the girl, huh?"

Chuck glances over to the kitchen where he could see Sarah trying her best to keep up with Ellie's conversation. "Yeah." Clapping Devon's back, he added, "Thanks to you, Morgan and Casey."

His brother in law chuckles. "No problem, bro. It was all the Bartowski charm that did it in the end. And aside from the fact that I was partly doing it so I could take Ellie away on a holiday, I'm really am happy for you two."

"Thanks Devon," Chuck says.

"Now tell me," Devon whispers in a low tone, winking at him, "did you two finally…you know…_seal the deal_?"

Chuck pulls a face at his gesturing. "Uh, a gentleman never tells."

"It's a yes then," Devon surmises. "And really, Chuck, do you think they_ aren't_ gossiping about you back there?" He points over his shoulder at Ellie and Sarah.

"Ew, that's my sister!" Chuck blanches, "I sure hope they aren't."

An eruption of giggling from the kitchen makes both men shudder, and Chuck and Devon look over just to catch the girls' faces turning away quickly with another explosion of laughter.

"Ellie isn't beneath that, Chuck, my man," Devon says solemnly.

Chuck looks apprehensive as he shoots another look over at the women. "I think she's pointing at you, Devon. Are they comparing notes? That's just wrong."

Devon pales dramatically.

Then he squares his shoulders and sets his jaw. "Well," the doctor affirms as confidently as he can, injecting a tad of smugness into his smile, "we both know that they don't need to compare us. I mean, there's no competition."

Chuck furrows his brow, "Wait. What?"

**.**

_Well, You, are, the only exception_  
_ You, are, the only exception_  
_ You, are, the only exception_  
_ You, are, the only exception_

_And I'm on my way to believing_  
_ Oh, And I'm on my way to believing_

* * *

Awesome song huh? Woulda worked better for "I'm Your Guy", but meh.

I'm really finding I like writing this kind of pointless canon drabble just for filling holes in the episodes. No responsibility for putting up any next chapters and I don't have to worry about going crazy OOC in an AU world.

Some of the Chuck/Sarah conversation may or may not be influenced from what I wanted to tell a certain "insecure" male who was in my life :)

Thanks again for the reviews for the last update! We really proved there is still pretty strong response out there. It really helps to get feedback and signs of life that people are actually reading this. I'm trying to review things I really like when I read now too. Now I'm actually wondering- Is it because there's lack of interest in _It's Complicated_ now and the lack of reviews don't reflect the actual fandom?

Pity me, oh so exalted super popular writers, help your servant improve by reviewing! I thought we were friends! *sniff*


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